


What's in a name?

by PenguinofProse



Series: Smutty Saturdays [26]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy being deliberately adorable, Clarke being accidentally adorable, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, adjectives, hot and soft, smut with feelings, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29658813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: Bellamy notices that his name has taken on a new meaning around camp.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Smutty Saturdays [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930432
Comments: 24
Kudos: 209





	What's in a name?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnlyZouzou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyZouzou/gifts).



> Sending all my love your way Zou <3 hope you like what I've done with your awesome idea!
> 
> This grew out of a silly conversation Zou and I were having about how we need a word for "soft and hot at the same time", and how that word should be "Bellamy". It's set in some post S1 AU at the dropship. There's fluff and foolishness and fumbling. Happy reading!

It takes Bellamy a long time to figure it out. It takes him a while, even, to figure out that there is anything to figure out.

His first clue that something is going on comes from Stirling.

“That's so Bellamy, thanks.” He says, when Bellamy climbs a tree to get Stirling's shirt, which for reasons unknown Jones decided to throw up there.

Bellamy finds that a bit weird. _That's so Bellamy_? It's not a common thing to say, is it? Who the hell else was he going to be, anyway?

He tries to put it out of mind. Stirling is a bit of an odd lad, but he tries hard, and Bellamy doesn't like to see him bullied by the other boys. So he doesn't question the odd turn of phrase. He just goes about his day – perhaps frowning very slightly more than normal as he goes.

…....

It gets weirder. Jasper and Bree and Fox tell him he's being _very Bellamy today_ , at different moments over the following week.

Of course he's being _very Bellamy_. He _is_ Bellamy. It's his literal goddamn name.

And then comes the weirdest moment of all. Then comes the conversation he overhears between Raven and Harper.

“I'm just saying, Monty _can_ be Bellamy. I swear he can. He just chooses not to flex all the time, you know?”

“Harper, please. Monty is the least Bellamy guy in this entire camp. _I_ am more Bellamy than Monty is.”

“No – he has the soft part perfect.” Harper insists. “But you can be Bellamy too, if you want.”

No. No way. This is getting creepy, now. Raven cannot be Bellamy. Only he can be Bellamy, because _he is Bellamy_.

And what's this about a _soft part_ , anyway? He's been eating better since he stopped sharing rations with his sister. Is Harper saying his six pack is fading?

He strides in there, determined to defend his identity, or at the very least to figure out what's going on. But by the time he rounds the corner, Raven is gone, and Harper is skinning a rabbit all alone.

“Hey, Bellamy.” Great. Seems like that is at least still his name then.

“Harper. How are you doing?”

“Good.” She says simply, nodding, skinning her rabbit. It's as if she thinks there is nothing unusual at all about the conversation he just overheard.

“Great. Listen, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Just now – you said Raven and Monty could be Bellamy. What's going on with that?” He tries to make it sound like the most casual question in the world, and he fails completely.

She looks surprised. “You know, _Bellamy_?” She says, as if that will help.

“I don't get it.” He admits, attempting to sound unconcerned by his failure. “What do you mean?”

“You know.” She repeats, shrugging, although he obviously _does not know_. “Like soft and hot at the same time. Powerful but gentle. _Bellamy_.”

So he thinks he understands what is going on, now – and yet, the truth leaves him more confused than ever.

“So you're using my name to describe other people? When they're being... _soft and hot_?” He asks, somewhere between uncomfortable and deeply flattered.

To his surprise, she laughs a long, loud laugh. “Not just me, Bellamy. Everyone in the camp has been using it for weeks now. You're telling me you've never heard it before?”

He frowns, takes a moment to consider. Maybe he has heard it before, but never stopped to analyse it because he _is_ Bellamy? He's certainly noticed it this last week or so.

“Do you know how it started?” He asks now.

Harper shrugs. “No idea. I think it was Jasper I first heard use it.”

Yes. Jasper. A joke like this is exactly the kind of thing Jasper would start.

But would Jasper really make such a fuss about Bellamy being _soft and hot_ , he wonders? Would Jasper care if he was _powerful but gentle_? And why is it that he finds himself so flattered by all this, anyway?

He's struck by the funny feeling that he might have been waiting his whole life for someone to tell him he can be gentle as well as powerful – but that somehow, he's only just realised it.

…....

Bellamy tracks Jasper down that very same afternoon. He's had a think about what Harper said, sort of planned his approach. He wants to look cool and calm and confident, as if he's more curious than strangely moved by this new fashion.

He takes a seat by Jasper's side, leans back casually into the wall behind him.

“So I hear people are using my name as an adjective now.” He offers, laughing slightly.

Jasper laughs too, right on cue. “It's good though, right? It's not like we had another word for Bellamy.”

“Is that why you started it?”

Jasper snorts. “I didn't start it, man. I spread it around a bit. I thought it seemed fun. But I didn't mean it _sexually_.” He says, urgent. “I meant like – kind but strong. Sort of like a big brother maybe.”

Bellamy considers that for a moment. It's not as if he'd have minded if Jasper did mean it sexually. He's kindly let down his fair share of admirers before now. But it's an interesting revelation, he supposes, to hear that it _can_ have sexual connotations. That seems to be what Jasper is implying here.

“So it can be sexual or like a brother thing?” He clarifies carefully.

“Yeah. I've even heard your sister use it sometimes.” Great. Even O is in on this. Why didn't she tell him this was going on?

No. That's not the point. The point is, he needs to get to the bottom of this. He needs to figure out who it is who characterised him like this in the first place, who decided he was the very definition of a tender show of force.

He needs to find that out, because he wants to thank them for the compliment.

And maybe because he wants them in his bed, just a little bit. If this new terminology can be used sexually, and there's someone out there who truly sees the best of him this clearly, he thinks that sounds well worth exploring.

“Do you know who did start it?” Bellamy asks Jasper now.

“No idea. I got it from Raven.”

Bellamy snorts. Raven definitely did not start it. No way she would come up with that, after their disappointing hook up. But Raven is a very intelligent woman, so maybe she can at least point him in the right direction.

…....

He doesn't beat about the bush so much with Raven. There's simply no need. They've seen each other naked and been mutually underwhelmed by the experience. She has no delusions left to shatter regarding him, he supposes.

“Raven. This thing where people are using my name to mean _hot and soft_ or whatever it is. What's going on with that?”

“What you just said. Bellamy means that now.” She bounces back at him, matter of fact.

“Yeah, but – what's going on with that?” He repeats. “ _Why_? How did it start? Why are people still doing it?”

“Because it's useful. We didn't have a word for it before.” She shrugs. “And because it's pretty funny when you know who started it.”

Yes. Great. He's still no closer to knowing _who the hell started it_.

“And? Who did start it?” He prompts.

She looks at him. She just looks, long and hard, eyes narrowed as if she's disappointed with him.

“Come on, Bellamy. You know who started it. Everyone else in camp might think it's funny that she admitted you're hot. But you know _exactly_ who it is. Who saw the best in you right from the start? Who can't take her eyes off you when you're teaching the younger kids how to use an axe?”

He gulps. He knows who he _wants_ the answer to be. The name he's been desperately trying not to think all day. The one person he hasn't asked about this stupid new item of vocabulary, even though she's usually the first person he goes to when anything takes him by surprise around camp.

He thinks her name would make a good adjective too, as it happens. A word to mean compassionate but a little frightening with it. Sort of _fierce_ in the way that she insists on doing the best for people. The opposite of Bellamy in every possible way, he sometimes thinks.

But on his more optimistic days? In the moments where he allows himself to hope, he thinks instead that she balances him perfectly.

“Clarke.” He breathes her name, half hopeful, half sure he must be mistaken. Life has not been this kind to him so far.

Raven simply nods.

He strides off into the night without another word. Firmly stomping off in order to sweetly confess his feelings? That seems like a very Bellamy thing to do, he muses as he goes.

…....

He finds Clarke in her tent, drawing something on a map. Does the woman ever stop working? That's something else very _Clarke_ , he decides. Her single-minded dedication, the way it sometimes spills over into martyrdom.

No, maybe he's overcomplicating things a little here. Maybe this has stopped being a definition and turned into an obsession.

He sits down at her side on the mattress, eases the pencil and map gently out of her hands and sets them to one side. Then he keeps hold of one of her hands because, well, he's Bellamy, isn't he? Firm hands tangled with soft touches is the kind of thing she likes about him, isn't it?

There's that, and he also wants to be holding her hand for this conversation. He wants her to understand that he's curious rather than annoyed or embarrassed.

“So you started it? This _Bellamy_ thing?”

She doesn't ask what he's talking about. She swallows loudly, gives the tiniest nod.

“Great. Perfect. Awesome. Just one question.” He takes a deep breath. “How? How did it happen? I'm flattered that you were _thinking_ it but I'm a little surprised you ever said it out loud.”

She shakes her head, giggling slightly. It's a happier sound than he usually hears her make, and he likes it.

“You were carrying little Mary. You remember that time she sprained her ankle?” She prompts.

He nods. Mary is the youngest of the children they have in camp. She was friends with Charlotte on account of being close in age, if nothing else, and she's been struggling a lot over the last few weeks.

Clarke shakes her head again, giggling ever harder. “It was the stupidest thing. I don't know, maybe I was feeling particularly... _swoony_ that morning. But there you were with your bulging muscles carrying this kid as if she weighed nothing, but being so gentle with her at the same time. And – and I just turned to Raven and said _god, he's so Bellamy._ She's never let me live it down.”

He laughs. “It's a good story, Princess.”

“It gets better. She asked me what I meant and I was stupid enough to tell her. And next thing I know the whole camp is talking about it. I think she was trying to back me into saying something to you so – here I am. Telling you. But really, we're good. I didn't mean anything by it.” She protests, and he thinks she sounds a little nervous.

“What if I want you to mean something by it?” He asks softly, squeezing her hand. “What if it's the biggest compliment anyone's ever paid me? Or... not a _compliment_ so much as – it makes me feel _known_. Understood.”

To his surprise, she bristles slightly. “You don't have to look at it like that. It's _obvious_. It's who you are. You protect people, even if you have to fight to do it. You care about people, even if you sometimes show that pretty forcefully.”

“It's obvious to _you_. It's never been obvious to anyone else in my life until you started swooning around camp.” He tries to tease, if only because he's scared witless that this conversation seems to be getting away from him, somehow.

“You mean that?” Clarke asks, quiet.

“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath. “I've been thinking about inventing a new adjective myself. _Clarke_. Sort of a perfect opposite for _Bellamy_ – or the perfect balance, maybe. Someone's Clarke if they're fierce and caring, you know?”

That's it. That's what does it. That's the moment she finally allows herself to believe that this is really happening, that he's not just holding her hand for the good of his health. He can see it in the way her face relaxes and her eyes grow warm. She's even leaning towards him, chin tilted up as if she's hoping for a kiss.

He meets her half way – or perhaps a little more. He tries his best to pour all of himself into the kiss, firm and demanding, yet gentle, too. He threads his fingers into her hair – but to cradle her head, rather than pull. His other hand comes to rest on her waist, holding tight enough to show her he means business, but staying soft enough to show her how much he cares – or at least, that's what he's aiming for.

She kisses exactly how he expected. Confident, urgent. But with just a hint of hesitancy, as if she cannot quite believe she deserves anything this good.

She does. She deserves this and more. That's why he starts nudging her down onto the mattress, hovers over her to kiss her deeply, pressing her head gently into her pillow.

“This OK?” He checks.

“Perfect. Just how I imagined it.”

“Me too.” He admits. There seems no sense in pretending that he hasn't been wishing for this, now that they're actually making it happen.

He gets back to kissing her, starts planning his next steps all the while. If she likes it when he balances the soft and the firm, he thinks he has an idea for where to take this next.

He undresses her, first. He's proud of himself for leaving her clothes on this long if he's being truly honest. He tugs her shirt off firmly, but kisses her softly as he goes. He makes it clear that he's in charge, as he pulls her trousers and underwear down her legs, but he gives her a sweet little smile while he's at it.

She likes that. He can tell. She's blushing prettily up at him, and that makes him feel awfully smug, somehow. He is capable of making Clarke Griffin blush. That's quite something, isn't it?

He gets his own clothes off in turn. She reaches up to try to help him, but he bats her away – softening his rebuke with a kiss, of course.

At last, they're both naked. And this is where it gets truly interesting.

He gets himself in the right place, first. He hovers over her, slides his cock inside of her slowly. He wants to get that bit right, doesn't want to hurt her. But once she's taken him, once she's squirming up towards him, begging for more, he makes a start on the fun part. He takes each of her hands in one of his, stretches them out wide at her side, level with her shoulders. Pinning her in place, as if frozen in the act of waving or giving some confident order. But even as he holds her fast, he's stroking his thumbs over the soft skin on the inside of her wrists, too. He wants to show her that he can be everything to her – tender and forceful, caring and dominant, all at once.

He wants to show her just how _Bellamy_ he feels, in this moment.

She likes it. She likes it a lot. She's making these needy little moaning sounds as she kisses him, pressing towards him with her lips and chest at the same time. She's blatantly begging for _more_ , even if she doesn't know what she wants more of.

He makes the decision for her. He pulls back from the kiss, bends to take a nipple into his mouth and suckle lightly instead.

Yes. That's what she wanted more of. That has her gasping, arching up towards his mouth as best she can while he holds her pinned in place.

But then it gets a little... unexpected. Then, of all things, he starts to feel Clarke pressing kisses to his biceps. Then she's shoving her face into his shoulder, moaning loudly, before pulling back to start kissing his arms all over again – his arms, which are currently holding her down. He finds her reaction more exciting than he expected. _Moving_ , even. It's like she's trying to worship his strength, trying to thank him wordlessly for what he's doing here.

It's a lot. It's almost more than he can bear, as his hips start shuddering and his movements grow messier.

“You're OK. I've got you.” She murmurs.

He half laughs, half groans. Shouldn't he be the one saying that? Doesn't this position lend itself to him being the caregiver?

But of course she's saying it. She's _Clarke_. They both take care of each other – that's how this works.

“You, too.” He mutters, pulling away from her breast for a moment. “You can come any time, Clarke. I've got you.” He repeats the words to her in turn.

That's what she needed, it turns out. Maybe that's why she said it to him – a reminder to him that she needs to hear it sometimes, too. All the same, he can feel her coming undone now. She's shaking badly, her breath giving way to unhinged moaning sounds – and occasionally to mangled attempts at his name.

“Bel – Belmy – Be -”

She's there. She's _Clarke_ , so she doesn't come quietly. She's groaning, the noise too loud in her flimsy tent, and he loves it. She's writhing underneath him, desperately pressing her hips and her chest up towards him.

He helps her out as best he can. But that's not very well, he fears, because he's falling apart too, spilling inside of her, wondering whether he ought to be embarrassed about crying out her name in turn.

No. It's probably fine. Names are kind of their thing today, aren't they? He wants this to be a celebration of that, a day to mark the fact that they're making love with each other as specific people, rather than simply scratching an itch.

He keeps holding her hands out while they both get their breath back. He keeps stroking his thumbs over her wrists, too. After a few seconds, when he feels mostly ready to start moving, he reaches over to press a kiss to her right forearm. Why not? It looks soft and tempting, and she seems to like little gestures like that.

She does like it. She sighs slightly, tugs her left hand free. He lets her go, and he's pleased about that when he finds that she starts ruffling his hair.

“Bellamy enough for you?” He asks, teasing.

“Perfect. Clarke enough?”

“Wouldn't change a thing.” He says easily.

She hums, a contented sort of sound. He sits up a little, just far enough to look into her eyes.

“Thanks for knowing me.” He says simply. “Thanks for understanding. Thanks for seeing the soft parts, too.”

“Same to you.” She whispers, reaching up to press a kiss to his forehead.

He sighs. He lies back down, but pillowed on her chest this time. She's still combing a hand through his hair, still breathing quiet and steady beneath him. He wants to say something else, something to seal the deal and tell her that this is not some passing phase for him, but he doesn't know where to start.

“Stop thinking so loud.” She teases. “That's my job.”

He laughs a little. “You're right. Sorry.”

“Don't worry about it. Relax. Get some sleep.”

“You'll still be here in the morning?” He asks, feeling a little vulnerable. Maybe that's OK, he decides. Maybe being vulnerable even as he lies in bed with a beautiful woman can be part of being Bellamy, too.

“Of course I'll be here. It's my tent.”

Right. Yes. Silly of him. It's her tent – of course she's not going anywhere.

He feels her take a long, shaky breath. “Will you still be here in the morning?” She asks, audibly nervous.

“Yeah. And the next morning, if you'll have me.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She says, and he can hear her smile.

Of course. _Sounds like a plan_. That's part of what it is to be Clarke, isn't it? That's part of why they balance each other so perfectly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
